Chapter 495 Have Mercy on Me, Wife
Margaret woke up to find herself lying in bed, covered with a pink duvet. At first, she thought Raymond had taken advantage of her while she was asleep and was about to yell at him, but when she turned her head, she realized she was alone in the bedroom.
So, he had left.
She should have felt relieved, but instead, she felt an inexplicable sense of loss mixed with concern. He had been so sick last night, burning up with a fever. She wondered if he was feeling any better.
Checking the time on her phone, she saw it was already lunchtime, and her stomach growled with hunger.
From the open kitchen, she heard sounds and smelled the aroma of home-cooked food.
Margaret looked up.
Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a bright light on Raymond's silhouette.
He was still wearing that cotton nightgown, facing away from her, diligently cooking. An apron was tied around his waist, but it couldn't hide his natural elegance.
Was he feeling better? Was he really up to cooking?
Shouldn't he be resting? After all, he was still a patient.
Margaret's concern was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back, remembering the things he had done.
She got out of bed, went to the bathroom to freshen up, and then saw Raymond setting a table full of food. There were boiled dishes, stir-fried dishes, and steaming hot plates, all looking and smelling delicious.
Seeing the spread, Margaret was reminded of their college days. She had begged him for ages to cook for her, and he had finally relented, making a simple dish that she thought tasted better than anything from The Hughes Family's chef.
But he had only cooked for her that one time, leaving her longing for more.
Later, when he joined The Hughes Group and became incredibly busy, she worried he wasn't eating properly. She spent a lot of money learning to cook and brought him meals every day at The Hughes Group.
Their meetings were brief, just a few minutes each time. Often, she wanted to hug him, to cling to his waist and be affectionate.
But he was always so cold and distant, insisting it wouldn't look good if others saw. She had to play along, pretending not to be so openly in love with him.
Now, with her memory loss, the only memories she had were the ones Raymond had given her—some sweet, but mostly bittersweet and painful.
Thinking about all this, Margaret felt a wave of emotion.
Raymond looked up and met her gaze. She was staring at the table full of food, lost in thought.
He quickly walked over and pulled out a chair for her. "These are all your favorites. Dine while it's hot."
"I'm not hungry," Margaret said, shifting her gaze away.
Raymond gently pushed her into the chair. "There's no poison, I promise. Just consider it my way of thanking you for letting me stay last night, for washing my clothes, and for giving me your bed."
"Let go," Margaret said, looking at the hand on her shoulder, the one wearing the watch she had given him not long ago.
Raymond glanced at the watch and said, "I've been wearing it ever since you gave it to me."
"I said, let go."
He insisted. "Then eat properly."
With no other choice, she reluctantly agreed.
She ate the food without expression, her head down.
Margaret noticed his fingers, all covered in band-aids. "What happened to your hand?"
"It's been a while since I cooked, and I cut myself," Raymond said, looking at her with pitiful, red-rimmed eyes. "Don't worry, it's not life-threatening."
The food he made tasted just as good as she remembered.
Margaret didn't respond, instead issuing an ultimatum. "Since it's not life-threatening, eat and then leave. This place isn't suitable for Mr. Howard to stay long."
"Are you still mad at me, honey?"
"Who are you calling honey? Don't call me that," Margaret said sternly.
Raymond pursed his lips, looking hurt. "In my heart, you're my wife. We're just missing the formalities."
Seeing him like this, Margaret lost her appetite. She knew Raymond was trying to gain her sympathy, with the rain, the fever, and now cooking for her.
If this continued, she would definitely soften.
Margaret was annoyed by his tactics and didn't want to be manipulated. Frustration welled up inside her, and she put her utensils down. "Leave now. Don't make me call the police."
After lunch, Margaret changed her clothes and went out shopping, hoping Raymond would take the hint and leave.
That night, when she returned home and opened the door, the house was brightly lit.
The floor was spotless, shining like new.
The trash was gone.
Raymond heard the door and turned to her. "Margaret, are you back? Wash your hands, dinner's ready."
She walked into the kitchen and saw it was also spotless.
Clearly, he had spent the afternoon cleaning.
She glanced at the steaming plate of spaghetti by the cutting board.
"I was busy this afternoon, so dinner is simple. Tomorrow, I'll make whatever you want," Raymond said cautiously, trying to avoid upsetting her.
Margaret looked at him. "Raymond, enough is enough. I told you to leave. Didn't you hear me?"
His hands, busy washing dishes, froze.
Raymond's face tightened, and after a moment, he poured the dirty water into the sink.
"Raymond, let me be clear. I won't eat your food anymore. What you're doing is cheap. I don't need you to grovel and do chores to make me happy. We're over. There's no going back."
After Raymond cleaned the kitchen, Margaret insisted he leave.
He remained silent, just stood there, eyes red, looking lost.
Margaret, frustrated by his persistence, turned to open the door and show him out.
Raymond grabbed her wrist with the hand wearing the watch she had given him.
With a pull, she fell into his arms.
She frowned, about to push him away, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. His deep, hoarse voice, filled with sadness, made her feel like she was the bad guy.
"Honey, I don't have much time left. Please, have pity on me. Let me stay with you. I need you."
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